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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838013">La Perm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearthery/pseuds/pearthery'>pearthery</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gintama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Cats, Enemies to Friends to Family, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Shoka Sonjuku</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:28:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearthery/pseuds/pearthery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s an eerie-eyed thing, and dirty, the grimy white of its fur turning its eyes sickly in the shadow of the street. If he were nicer, like Zura, perhaps, or even Shoyo, Gintoki might’ve stopped to share the onigiri in his pocket—might’ve tried to put a little more flesh on its tattered bones. As it is, Gintoki is a wary child, and he stares back, blinks slowly, and continues onwards to the river. </p><p>[Gintoki meets a cat.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sakata Gintoki &amp; Katsura Kotarou &amp; Takasugi Shinsuke, Sakata Gintoki &amp; Original Cat Character, Sakata Gintoki &amp; Yoshida Shouyou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>did you know that there is a cat breed called La Perm????? well, now you do!!!</p><p>- i've decided to put all my spare tags here ahaha </p><p>#c a t #gintoki befriends a cat that is the whole plot #takasugi—ready to throw hands with gintoki at any given time  #shoyo—long-suffering and indulgent #gintoki himself—a brat and very foul mouthed but also. he. soft. #cat. big white fluffy cat. it's big. fluffy. soft. #ahahaha zura nearly went on standby sorry. zura—a good student</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On his merry, merry way to the riverbank, the one with the nice, shady trees and the unobtrusive burble of running water, and the pleasant lack of such things as ‘calligraphy’ and ‘history’ and the annoying sound of fluttering pages, Gintoki pauses and looks to the side. </p><p>Something shifts in the shadows. Rolling onto the balls of his feet, he scans the road—eyes skittering over the dusty path, the feathered grasses, scaling the mud bricks of the looming walls. A tense silence crouches beneath the weight of his gaze. </p><p>A moment, and he catches it. A thin strip of light, refracted in a wet membrane.</p><p>The creature hisses and arches its back, bared teeth shock-sharp and gleaming. It spits at him, furious and feral. Gintoki almost hisses back. Almost. But he’s a little more human now than he used to be, thanks to Shoyo, so instead, clutching his sword, he steps away.</p><p>It’s an eerie-eyed thing, and dirty, the grimy white of its fur turning its eyes sickly in the shadow of the street. If he were nicer, like Zura, perhaps, or even Shoyo, Gintoki might’ve stopped to share the onigiri in his pocket—might’ve tried to put a little more flesh on its tattered bones. As it is, Gintoki is a wary child, and he stares back, blinks slowly, and continues onwards to the river. </p><p>Behind him, the cat lashes its tail. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The second time Gintoki meets the cat, he is hiding from Shoyo.</p><p>‘You’ve missed so many lessons, Gintoki,’ said Shoyo. ‘You’re far too young to ditch school, Gintoki,’ said Shoyo. ‘Your naps can wait, don’t you think, Gintoki?’ said Shoyo. </p><p>Currently, as he clambers up the furthest tree from the riverbank, Gintoki thinks back to Shoyo’s unblinking gaze. He thinks about how terribly disappointed he had looked, standing there beneath the shade as Gintoki wandered into the clearing, quite obviously ditching school once more.</p><p>For one quiet, critical moment, Gintoki considers; he has missed a total of a bajillion lessons. Shoyo has spent a bajillion sticky evenings with him in the empty classroom, patiently working through every concept he has missed. Gintoki considers. He considers for a very long time. </p><p>And then he keeps on climbing. His hands scrape against the rough bark.</p><p>He's not all that sure why he refuses to stay in class. It’s nothing against Shoyo, really. And he—truly—holds no resentment for his classmates. He’s not even annoyed by Zura, that weirdo. Not even stupid, dumb Takasugi. Sure, they are both horribly stupid, and really, really, painfully dumb, but Gintoki’s sure they were born like that, so he can’t fault them for things beyond their control. </p><p>It’s a fact of life, Gintoki has learned. There are crows after every battle, the dead remain forever dead, and Zura and Takasugi were born complete and utter morons. Three irrefutable truths. </p><p>And, another irrefutable truth: the cat is a bitch. A complete and utter bitch. He really hates this cat. </p><p>“You’re a bitch,” says Gintoki. “I saw this tree first.” </p><p>The cat glowers. </p><p>“Look,” says Gintoki. “I touched it. Dibs. With all my fingers. I got five. You don’t even have fingers.” </p><p>He pulls himself up onto the wide branch and shuffles forward threateningly. The bark scratches his legs a bit, but that’s fine. Some things are beyond anyone’s control. Tree branches, for example. There’s no controlling tree branches. Also, as it turns out, there’s no controlling cats, either. </p><p>Covertly, the cat unsheathes its claws. </p><p>Gintoki scowls. “I’m not scared of you, bastard. I’ve dealt with bigger things than you. Scarier, too!” </p><p>Its claws rake down the wood as it rises from its perch and stalks towards Gintoki, who tugs his hanging legs up and crouches defensively on the leafy platform. Snarling, the cat pins its ears back.</p><p>The prickly fur on its back stands up, and he tracks the movement of its scarred tail, maps the scabs on its flank and the bald, white scratches scored down the side of its face. A chipped tooth flashes in the midday light. </p><p>The cat jerks forward and he yelps, almost unable to catch it by its clawed arms before it reaches his head. </p><p>“Aack!” </p><p>Outraged, the cat writhes in his grip, flailing with fangs and feet until, out of exhaustion, Gintoki loosens his grip and lets it clamber violently over his shoulder so the incensed little monster can bolt down the tree. Pale bark flakes off as it claws at the trunk, and he sneezes. </p><p>“Eurggh! I didn’t need to see your balls, you pervert. That’s disgusting!” </p><p>In an immensely offended manner, the cat looks up at him and spits, all four feet stabbed into the ground and patchy white tail cutting the air like a whip. Gintoki sticks his tongue out, and its green eyes turn positively murderous, poisonous with the sheer volume of its feline fury. The cat yowls. </p><p>“They’re gross,” says Gintoki, snorting at the sweep of its toilet-brush tail. “Why’re they grey? That’s weird and scary—are you dying, you old mongrel? Is that it? Is that why they look like dead sea urchins? Huh? Huh?” </p><p>“Gintoki,” says Shoyo. “What a coincidence that I should come across you here. I wonder what you’ve been up to. Oh, you seem to be practising your climbing! This is quite the delightful spot you’ve found, Gintoki, and the weather is rather pleasant. In fact, I would even say that it is a lovely day for learni—oh, Gintoki. Oh my, you seem to be turning grey.”</p><p>“H-hi, Shoyo,” says Gintoki. The cat has disappeared. Gintoki curses its honed instincts, and wonders where his own have gone.</p><p>Shoyo smiles and his eyes turn sharp. “It's quite late now, Gintoki. Even the birds have gone home to their nests. I’m sure we have something at the temple school that could settle your stomach. Come along now.”</p><p>Standing again in the shadows, Shoyo waits for him patiently as he makes his reproachful way down, and Gintoki almost lets the guilt weigh down his head. But as he drops onto the soft soil and looks up at Shoyo, he can see the fond exasperation hiding beneath his scolding look. Shoyo’s sandals are stained with mud and his wheaten hair splays across his forehead as the wind wafts past them. </p><p>Shoyo beckons, and bowing bashfully to his teacher's request, Gintoki shuffles forward. As he trudges home behind Shoyo’s straight back, Gintoki twists around, snatching a final glimpse of the sun-dappled canopy before he is inevitably grounded for a whole month, and thus unable to climb any trees at all. He scans the leaf litter with narrow eyes. </p><p>He isn’t worried. It’s just that animals act funny around Shoyo—they’re always skittish, and scared, and sometimes they’re so desperate to remove themselves from his presence that they get into trouble. It’s weird, and sometimes Shoyo looks unbearably sad as he tucks his hands within their sleeves, as if to shield himself from the urge to reach out, or, more likely, to shield whatever terrified creature rolls its eyes white at his fingers from his fearsome self. So, for his teacher’s sake, Gintoki just wants to check if the mad old bastard has done anything stupid. God knows that Shoyo would be heartbroken if he found out he’d given another random animal a sudden heart attack.</p><p>Gintoki sweeps his eyes over the small space once more. He sees the smattering of light on the finely hatched floor, and the vivid green of leaves in spring. Just as he is about to turn back around, a pair of bright eyes snap open, and the cat glares back at him from its bedraggled little bush, frazzled but still kicking. </p><p>“Dumb thing,” he mutters. The curve of his mouth is definitely not a grin. It's definitely not starting to grow on him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As penance for his shameless, school-based sins, Gintoki gets to play errand boy for a week. It’s not all that troublesome of a job, and Gintoki kind of likes it for the strange peace it brings him. </p><p>Basically, he carries packages back and forth. </p><p>Sometimes it’s food, which he sneaks a few small bites out of, and even though Shoyo obviously knows, he never berates him for it. Sometimes it’s bamboo, or leather, from the old man on the edge of the village, which Gintoki assumes Shoyo uses to make their training swords. He’s not sure where Shoyo learned how to do stuff like that, but he’s pretty old, so Gintoki (unlike Zura) makes it a habit not to ask. Sometimes, very rarely, it’s letters, and Gintoki can only make out some of the words. Takasugi would probably say that it serves him right for skipping lessons all the time. Then again, Takasugi probably can’t smell the blood on the parchment.</p><p>Shoyo is involved in something larger than any of them can quite comprehend, but Gintoki trusts him. And that’s why he trudges all the way across the village carrying bundles of bamboo longer than he is tall, lets the old ladies pat at his oddly-coloured hair, avoids the men who give him wary glances, and comes home in time for dinner, even when he has to go the long way round because some weirdo with an uptight hairdo wants to read Shoyo’s letters. </p><p>This afternoon, Gintoki takes a shortcut through the rice paddies. The shoots are young and green, slender stalks poking up through the water, and there are a couple small fish lipping gently at the surface as he balances carefully on the raised ridges separating the patchwork fields, holding the load awkwardly above his head. </p><p>It’s silent and still, and his breathing, over time, paces to match the clouds drifting soft and slow in the endless sky. The cat—dozing in the grass next to the dry path—blinks easy as Gintoki walks past. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Huh,” says Gintoki. “You look horrible.” </p><p>The cat looks horrible. His splayed claws, sharp, sharp teeth—bared in a snarl—the blade-thin slits of his pupils, his bloody, bristling fur, the serrated line of his tail, flaying the air, and forceful—they tell Gintoki that he probably feels horrible too. It’d be weird if he didn’t. It’s pretty impressive that the ragged old thing was able to hold his own, actually, because—and Gintoki peers at the dead crow sprawled at the cat’s scarlet-stained paws—crows are canny creatures, and for all his blustering, this child of the corpse-fields knows when to pick a fight. He knows—you don’t pick fights with crows.</p><p>“You’re really stupid, aren’t you?” says Gintoki to the cat, whose ears are still pinned back. The stiff tilt of his head looks almost familiar, the way he sits in the centre of the garden, the awkward, uncomfortable curve of his back. It takes him a moment, but Gintoki recalls exactly where he has seen it before. Heh. Takasugi would burst if Gintoki told him he acted like a stray cat.</p><p>“If you’re like him,” says Gintoki, “then of course you’re like this.” He pauses. “Why’re you even fightin’ it anyway? Were you gonna eat it? You shouldn’t. Crows taste really bad. They taste like ash.”</p><p>At this, the cat twists his head and eyes him with an odd expression. It—actually, it looks sorta judgemental. Sorta, y’know, like the cranky old men who loiter on the sides of the street and squint at Gintoki as he walks by, except the cat stares at him with an exponentially more incredulous look. Gintoki doesn’t quite know how to feel about being judged by this scraggly white stray.</p><p>“Oi, oi, Jiji, don’t judge desperate men,” Gintoki defends, “desperate men do desperate things! Like when you need to pee at the park, but all of the toilets are full with old geezers or tiny brats, so you look up and you see this—okay. It’s—you probably haven’t even starved, ever, okay, so stop looking at me like that!” </p><p>Jiji makes a quiet noise that sounds almost derisive and starts licking at his wounds. His white fur has brambles and gravel all caught up in it, and his torn ear is dripping blood. </p><p>Gintoki watches as he stretches to reach his side—the crow must’ve torn at him with its beak, god knows how fierce they are, Gintoki, too, knows how fierce they are—and jerks back from pain. It’s really pathetic, super pathetic. Gintoki’s almost embarrassed to witness the scene. That’s why he gets up. </p><p>“Wait here, Jiji,” he says. “I’ll get you some honey so you can at least taste good before you give yourself a tongue bath.” </p><p>And, well, if he brings back a little bit of fish at the same time, then it's nobody's business but theirs.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Two afternoons later, Gintoki encounters Jiji on the fence outside Shoka Sonjuku. Jiji perches on the wooden pole, making an odd noise. It's low and rattling, a tentative thing, maybe a greeting. </p><p>He purrs as Gintoki strokes his head.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Recently, Shoyo has noticed a great deal of food exiting the kitchen. It is not by its own desire to escape, he is sure, as Shoyo has not purchased or received any living or exotic ingredients, but the true culprit has yet to be discovered. Or, rather, the necessary evidence has not yet been exposed.</p><p>In a noble move, Kotaro earnestly and honestly swears by his family name that he has not stolen from the kitchen. 'I hope this helps you narrow down the search, Sensei!' he says. Shoyo smiles and thanks him, and does not tell Kotaro that his strong sense of justice and morality had already exempted him from the investigation.</p><p>He comes to Shinsuke next. 'It wasn't me, Sensei.' says Shinsuke solemnly. With a firm expression, he looks up at Shoyo, big green eyes and stubborn conviction convincing Shoyo of his innocence. 'I bet it was Gintoki,' he adds under his breath. Shoyo laughs and lets him return to his katas. </p><p>He questions a few more of his students that morning—young Sei has cheeky little hands and is occasionally prone to kleptomania, but he assures Shoyo that he has been on his absolute best behaviour, that he has been maintaining his self-discipline and hasn't snatched anything in a whole two months! Isn't that great, Sensei? <em> I'm doing really well, right! Right! </em></p><p>They're such energetic children. And, after Shoyo has cycled through each of them, including Minamino-kun, who only comes by every few days, mostly for the company, it seems, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and admits to himself the truth.</p><p>Really—Shoyo reasons—a majority of the students are too well-behaved, or uninterested in such antics, to engage in such behaviour. Really—Shoyo reasons—the only possible culprit is Gintoki. </p><p>Gintoki is a surprisingly cunning child. But of course he is. Instinct isn't everything, and Gintoki's clever mind is what had kept him alive in the battlefields, has kept him alert throughout each of the villages Shoyo had brought him through, and—of course—has kept him holding his own against Shinsuke's formidable and furious determination. </p><p>His intelligence, on paper, is no match for Kotaro's, but there is no reason that it should be. They think in different ways; Kotaro's mind is sharp with logic, keen with tactics. Gintoki is adaptable. So far, he has adjusted well to Kotaro, navigating the other boy's rigid self-control with ease. Between them, it is about trust, comfort, and the relinquishing of control.</p><p>It is through this understanding of Gintoki's mischievous mind—his search for ease and escape—that Shoyo tracks him down.</p><p>He finds his wayward student sprawled on the fringe of the forest, dozing casually next to a scarred white cat, its purr a rattle in its chest, and Shoyo's freshwater carp a tragic mess of scales and flesh in its blood-stained mouth. </p><p>"Gintoki," he says, watching the boy peel his eyes open. "I don't want to discourage you from your kindness, but we cannot afford to feed someone who isn't earning their keep. Is there any way for your friend to contribute his part to the chores?" </p><p>"Huh?" Gintoki mumbles blearily, slowly heaving himself up. He takes special care, Shoyo notices, in avoiding the cat's flopped limbs. "Whaddya mean? 'm not givin Jiji anythin'."</p><p>"I see, I see," Shoyo nods. "I suppose Jiji-san opened the icebox with his opposable thumbs, then. Is Jiji-san part Amanto, Gintoki? Or a spirit, perhaps? I've never known any cat to spontaneously grow new extremeties."</p><p>Gintoki wriggles up against the tree he is leaning on and yawns. "You prolly didn't meet any cats like Jiji. He's got magic pow'rs. Like a shiny pokemon." </p><p>"My apologies," says Shoyo. "That certainly must be it."</p><p>"Yuuup. I'm not bein' nice to him at all, Sensei." says Gintoki seriously. "Actually, Jiji's a little bastard and I hate him." Despite his straight face, his statement is gravely unconvincing, possibly due to the dusty white cat purring into his outstretched legs. Jiji's thin, bristly tail sways, and he blinks mildly at his red-eyed companion. </p><p>"Do you now, Gintoki?" hums Shoyo.</p><p>Gintoki frowns at him. "He's bitchy and horrible, Sensei. You don't know his true face at all."</p><p>Shoyo can no longer hold back his smile, and a chuckle slips out, a short, bright note in the warm morning. "Well, I'm sure that you do, so I shall leave you to bargain with him." </p><p>"Huh?" says Gintoki, suddenly confused. His eyes go wide and he hops up on his knees. "Wait, Shoyo, aren't you gonna drag me back to class?" </p><p>It's difficult to explain to Gintoki, Shoyo thinks. He's still learning a lot of things about being around people. It overwhelms him often. Gintoki isn't certain of the reason himself, but Shoyo knows that his daily escapades—though they are getting better, after all, Gintoki has been comfortable to remain in over half the lessons this week, as opposed to his historic daily truancy—is quite significantly a bellwether of his time in the blood-stained moors.</p><p>It saddens him that Gintoki's experience with humanity has so often been wracked with fear, has been dangerous and deadly, and otherwise tinged with death. And though Shoyo will never say so to anyone, not even his gentle, good-natured little students, he has often felt the same. So when Gintoki's breathing stutters and his eyes go blank, Shoyo is content to let him squirrel away until it is time to come home.</p><p>"I see that you have far more pressing responsibilities to attend to, Gintoki. Ah well, I suppose we will make do without you. When Jiji-san decides to return my pupil, please send him my regards, as well as my request that he start to work for his keep."</p><p>As Shoyo strolls back to the temple school, Gintoki yelps after him, questioning and loud. In a considerable show of stamina, his confused grumbles last right up until Shoyo leaves the clearing, after which his tone turns exasperated and fond. </p><p>"You suck," Shoyo hears him say to the cat, who responds with a low, long meow. "You're the worst, you hear me? If you wanna keep freeloading, you better start paying for your stay."</p><p>Shoyo laughs into his hand and leaves Gintoki to his wanderings. It is good for him to discover openness, and openness for himself. Providing comfort to other people is one thing, but finding comfort for himself is another, and it is a thing that Shoyo is glad he is learning to do.</p><p>What a long way he's come from that child who wrestled catfish in the rice paddies. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Hey Jiji," murmurs Gintoki into the chilly night. His throat is dry and sticky, so his voice comes out rough. But Jiji doesn't really seem to mind. He heaves himself up the wide slate step onto the wooden engawa and greets Gintoki with his own trill, a gruff, gravelly noise. Gintoki laughs.</p><p>His gaze returns to the trees on the edge of the temple school grounds, backlit by the moon, looming and tall, ghostly figures all adorned with pointed needles. Their jagged shapes, the poised, deadly slant of their branches, remind Gintoki of fractured steel. Piles of rusted swords, broken and sharp. Piles of corpses, snapped bones jutting and white under the light of the stars. </p><p>The wind is cold, and Gintoki sits outside in only his threadbare yukata, goosebumps covering the expanse of his skin exposed to the cool air. It reminds him of the battlefield, what came before Shoyo. He closes his eyes and lets it. </p><p>And then something slams into his torso, and Gintoki wheezes. Jiji yowls at him, tail lashing. His ears flick back in annoyance and he bares his teeth, blood-stained from his dinner, the fur on his forehead mussed from his unhappy headbutt.</p><p>"What was that for?!" Gintoki snaps.</p><p>Jiji answers with a slow, steady growl. His pupils aren't round as they should be—they're slitted and piercing. Gintoki furrows his brow at the sudden anger. </p><p>"What's with you, huh? You didn't get laid? It's probably your breath—all those mice and birds you've been eating smell really bad, and all the girl cats might think you're gross."</p><p>Gintoki nods. </p><p>"Or," he says, tilting his head thoughtfully, "Hm. You're an old man, y'know, it's alright if you can't get it up anymore." </p><p>Jiji's expression takes on a tinge of immense and indelible offence, and he extends his claws. </p><p>"Ahaha, oi, what's with that look, bastard….?"</p><p>Gintoki scrambles backwards. Jiji stalks forward, and leaps up. </p><p>"Gah! Get off! You're really heavy!" </p><p>Gintoki's ribs are crushed beneath the old cat's weight, and Jiji seems content with his victory, having slammed all four of his great, white paws into Gintoki's poor sternum. Back flat on the engawa, Gintoki huffs his protest as the white-hot furnace settles its considerable mass triumphantly on his possibly-fractured sternum, kneading the frayed cloth and the thin layer of flesh at his collar. </p><p>"You're so weird, Jiji. Is this normal cat behaviour or are you a freak?" Gintoki grumbles and, resigned to his fate, makes no motion to shove him off.</p><p>Jiji is warm. Gintoki feeds him every morning, when he comes up screaming to the temple school, and after a few months, the ratty thing has grown. Fatter, that is. He's a big, old, fat cat now, and Gintoki can no longer see his ribs pressing against his skin, see the thin bone shapes through ragged fur. </p><p>Actually, he can't even see Jiji's skin anymore, as his fur has grown thick and dense, as fleecy and tangled as Gintoki's own hair. Takasugi likes to say they match, stray and stray, and Shoyo laughs and says that it's adorable.</p><p>It's not adorable. It's not cute, at all, in any way. Jiji's doped up purring isn't cute, and the puddle of drool he makes on Gintoki's yukata isn't cute, either, in fact, it's super gross and Gintoki is so paralysed by his disgust that he can't move.</p><p>Jiji rumbles louder, clearly pleased at his chosen perch. His body heat, like sunlight, warms up the cold flesh pinned beneath his big, dumb head. Gintoki rolls his eyes and listens quietly as the rough, heavy sound, the resounding vibration, fills up the infinite night.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Gintoki," says Zura, one day, after Shoyo has drilled into them yet another old-as-balls poem. "How old is Jiji-dono?"</p><p>"I dunno," Gintoki replies idly, copying Zura's ridiculously neat notes into his own tattered book. "A thousand years old, maybe. He's ancient. Older than Shoyo. You can tell because he's gone grey all over."</p><p>The classroom is empty except for them and Takasugi, cleaning up their stuff. Or, well, Zura is helping Gintoki clean up his ink and brushes, after the characters have dried on the page and Gintoki can snap the book shut. Takasugi's just watching. He put all his equipment away earlier, and then he decided to stand near the doorway looking smug for the ten minutes Gintoki spent painstakingly copying Zura's brushwork. It's really annoying. Doesn't he know it's not a race? Moron.</p><p>"Stupid," Takasugi says. "That's not how cats work. They hardly live ten years, like you should have."</p><p>Gintoki snorts. "What would you know, huh, Chibisugi-kun? I bet no cat's ever liked you in your whole life." </p><p>It's a sort of unfounded assumption, because it's not like Gintoki's spent half his life with Takasugi or anything. Maybe he actually had a family cat that really adored him, and learned to talk so it could tell him the fluffy little bedtime stories that his parents obviously hadn't, or else he wouldn't have turned out all dumb and edgy like this. But anyway, Zura—who actually has spent half his life with Takasugi—doesn't disprove his theory, so it's basically an affirmation of what Gintoki's known all along.</p><p>"Shut up!" Takasugi gripes. "Plenty of cats love me! Jiji loves me!"</p><p>There is a break in the conversation, thick with silence.</p><p>"You only say that, Takasugi," says Zura, after the silence passes, with great solemnity, "because Sensei told you that cats leave the dead bodies of their prey as gifts, and Jiji-dono always puts the dead mice in your futon." </p><p>"I mean, Sensei's right about that," Gintoki agrees, "but Jiji's really just sucking up to him 'cause he's a rich boy."</p><p>"IDIOT!" hollers Takasugi. "Cats can't be gold-diggers!"</p><p>"That's what you think!" Gintoki shoots back.</p><p>"What the hell?" says Takasugi. "Seriously, what. What kind of gold-diggers have you been around? What kind of cats? Do you even know what a gold-digger is? This is a joke, right? This is one of your idiot pranks."</p><p>"Your mindset is extremely narrow, Takasugi-kun," says Gintoki. "There are a lot of different possibilities in this new era, and you shouldn't judge anyone for their choices." </p><p>"You're choosing to believe that—that cats, that they can be—"</p><p>"Sometimes people, and cats, and even you, Takasugi-kun—"</p><p>"You can't be this stupid."</p><p>"—you might be desperate and make decisions you thought you never would have when you were young and innocent, you might get involved in some really dark, gritty stuff—"</p><p>"Cats. Gold-diggers." </p><p>"—and you'll feel guilty, kind of like, 'What have I done? Dammit, how could this happen?!' and you'll go to the bar and order a Dom Perignon, and all around you people will be muttering, 'What's that guy doing, drinking a whole bottle of Dom Perignon?'—</p><p>"Alright, alright, I get it, you won't let this go, so please stop talking."</p><p>"—and you see, Takasugi-kun? You'll already feel terrible yourself, so when you look at someone in that position, you should always keep your mouth shut—"</p><p>"Did you know that when people age, they start to move differently?" says Zura, in a quiet voice.</p><p>He walks over to Jiji, sleeping in the corner next to Gintoki's sword, which has been left lying on the ground, running his fingers down the white-furred back. Jiji's plumper than he used to be, and his fur seems fuller, softer, with this funny little curl. Gintoki thinks he seems pretty healthy.</p><p>"Don't you think he's been moving slower? His limbs are stiffening up." </p><p>"That's not funny, Zura," says Gintoki. "I was joking, you know, when I said he's older than Shoyo. Actually, cats are immortal. The having nine lives thing is actually a PR scam so people don't go pestering them for the Fountain of Youth, which a lot of people would do if they knew that cats can live forever."</p><p>"Shhhh," says Zura.</p><p>Gently, he turns Jiji's head to face him. He peers into his pale green eyes and scratches under his chin. </p><p>"He's old, Gintoki," he says. Gintoki hates how he sounds like Shoyo. He hates the weight of Takasugi's silence. Jiji purrs and looks up, his gaze opaque.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next day, when Jiji snaps up his very luxurious meal of freshwater carp—or, at least, the innards, 'cause Shoyo draws the line at spending all his money on Jiji's opulent diet—Gintoki ditches the morning lesson and follows him through the village. </p><p>They wander past the paddy fields, the stems golden at the tips with ripened grass, their bowed heads brushing against each other in the breeze, and through the streets, too, dotted with people and clattering wooden carts. Jiji greets his fellow strays with confidence, cool and casual. Very casual. It's really, really casual.</p><p>There are a lot of blinks and large, half-lidded eyes. Zura says that for cats, blinking is like a love confession, or at least an expression of deep fondness, and squinting is, similarly, extremely affectionate. Something about trust, and relaxation, acknowledgement of safety, comfort, blah blah blah. </p><p>"Whoa," remarks Gintoki as Jiji squints at a whole gang of calicos. "You're really playing, huh, old man?"</p><p>Ignoring the curious gazes of the few people on the street, Gintoki follows him to the river, padding easily over the gravel in his new sandals. Well, they're aren't all that new. But Gintoki's decision to not wear them for half of his excursions means that they are in fantastic condition, and if they ever needed a little spare money, Gintoki could probably pawn them off for some coin. </p><p>He spies a tailor's on the other side of the river and considers whether the temptation of purchasing dango from that nice stall near the blacksmith's is worth the effort of explaining to Shoyo where his shoes have gone. After several minutes, the verdict determines that the shoes stay, for today.</p><p>Halfway across the bridge, Jiji pauses, locking eyes with the black tabby hesitating on the grey rock. Gintoki snaps out of his reverie just as the snarling begins. </p><p>"Hey, Jiji," he says. "Whaddya do to make this guy so angry?" </p><p>The tabby spits and arches its back. But strangely enough, Jiji doesn't react. His hair-trigger temper seems to have wandered away, like Gintoki, heh, and all he does is squint, normal-sized pupils, half-lidded eyes, his curly fur laying flat—or, well, as flat as it gets—on his back. His tail sticks straight up in the air, a fluffy, white flag waving in the air as he strolls past the other cat and off the bridge. </p><p>Gintoki glances back at the tabby. It's got a scar over its eyes, and a chipped tooth matching the one in Jiji's jaw, and it looks hilariously bemused. Then he trots to catch up. </p><p>After he trudges down a couple more lanes, winks at a couple more calicos, and tracks down a small pile of chicken feet next to the butcher's, Jiji curls up on a flat, sunlit stone in a quiet street and closes his eyes, his tail swishing back and forth. Gintoki plops down and crosses his legs, leans against the stout wall, and lets himself run his palm over Jiji's fur. </p><p>The scar on his ear has healed well, though it's left part of it bisected. His tail isn't as patchy anymore—it's pretty bushy, and sometimes, when the cat sprawls on his face, he smothers him with it, and Takasugi, because he's a sadist and wishes for Gintoki's demise, thinks its the epitome of comedy, and Zura, because he's so weird, actually gets jealous, for some reason, as if he actively desires to be suffocated in fuzz.</p><p>Some old lady begins trudging down the road and Gintoki tries not to look at her. She smiles at him.</p><p>"My goodness," she says, as she comes into earshot. "He's rather fond of you, isn't he?"</p><p>Jiji peers at her foggily. "He's dumb and horrible," says Gintoki, without looking up. "But he's nice, I guess."</p><p>"It's odd," says the woman. "I've always seen this one getting into fights, even in his twilight years. I always expected him to have gone down fighting. It's surprising to see him live this long." </p><p>When she leaves, he pets Jiji's soft, white head. His purr reverbates in his chest, and in Gintoki's too, worn and weary and warm. Jiji hasn't sharpened his claws in a while, they're splintered at the tips. He sleeps more, is quieter, his movement lax and lethargic. His gait is stiff and leaden, as if he is rusting at the joints, and the whole morning, he'd avoided jumping and running, had wandered only down flat gravel paths, and there was no hint of the great, big trees he used to climb. His eyes—</p><p>That day, Gintoki carries him home.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>One evening, Jiji comes to him, and Gintoki knows that it is the last. The line of the horizon is bittersweet orange and the skylarks swoop in the dimming light like falling stars, and the cat wobbles towards him on weary legs. In the dust and yellowed grass, he stretches out his legs and lifts Jiji, the old, white thing he is, scarred and sweet, and steadies him on his lap.</p><p>Jiji chirps. Nudges weakly at his limp fingers. A rattle—a rusted rumble in his chest, tired and breaking. Gintoki lifts a trembling hand and lays it on his soft back, feels the rise and fall of his breathing.</p><p>Gently, he curls his fingers and runs them through the snowy strands, over and over, just the way Jiji likes it best, and Jiji purrs and purrs and purrs, and his tail twitches, and his jade eyes flutter slowly closed. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Is Jiji resting now?" Shoyo asks quietly. Lying on his tatami, Gintoki does not respond.</p><p>Shoyo leans his sword against the wall and steps through the doorway, the amber light seeping in through the open shoji refracted around his shadow. Treading over the planks, he crosses the short distance to the corner of the airy room, and folds his legs beneath him, sighing, settling at Gintoki's side.</p><p>He places a hand on his shoulder. A moment, and he raises it, to rest it once more, feather-light, on the silver strands of his hair, and slowly, he threads his fingers through. </p><p>"You were very kind to him," says Shoyo. "And he was kind to you." Beneath his warm, calloused palm, Gintoki breathes, his eyes open and wet.</p><p>"Yeah," he says, with a fond, gentle curve to his mouth. "He was."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so there's this cat in my neighbourhood who i call grandpapa, and i'm not quite sure what i will do when he stops coming by, ahaha, also, this is the longest thing i have ever written, ever, which goes to show the depth of my emotion</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>PLEASE LOOK AT THIS WONDERFUL AND AMAZING DRAWING OF JIJI THAT THE WONDERFUL AND AMAZING OFFICIAL_BISCUIT_MORON DREW IT'S BEAUTIFUL</p><p>  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Official_Biscuit_Moron/pseuds/Official_Biscuit_Moron">Official_Biscuit_Moron</a></p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so there's this cat in my neighbourhood who i call grandpapa, and i'm not quite sure what i will do when he stops coming by, ahaha, also, this is the longest thing i have ever written, ever, which goes to show the depth of my emotion</p></blockquote></div></div>
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